Page 59 of Wicked Chains
She fights it, of course she does. Her body trembles with the effort of resisting my command. Sweat beads on her forehead despite the cold. But the blood mark cannot be denied. Her magic belongs to me.
Slowly, painfully, her knees begin to bend.
"Stop it," she demands.
"Kneel before me, Rose Smith," I whisper to her. "Show everyone who you truly belong to."
Her knees hit the snow with a soft thump, her body forced into submission even as her eyes are on fire with hatred. The crowd around us has grown, students whispering and pointing. I hear Thorne's mocking laughter, see Harry's smug grin. I see the anger in her eyes.
"There," I say. "Isn't this better? When you behave and accept your place?"
Rose's face burns with humiliation, but her eyes never leave mine. "I'll kill you for this," she says.
I laugh, genuinely amused by her threat. "With what? Your magic is mine to control. Every last drop. Whenever I want it. Just like you."
Something catches my attention from the corner of my eye, movement at the entrance to the east wing. Lucien has come out from the building and is watching the scene unfold, his normally impassive face twisted with barely contained rage. Our eyes lock, and I feel a surge of triumphant satisfaction.
I crouch down to Rose's level, taking her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. "Your vampire is watching," I murmur. "Shall we give him a show? Perhaps I should kiss you right now, while you're on your knees before me. Let him see what's coming."
"I'd bite your tongue off," she snarls.
My smile widens. "I'd heal. And then I'd punish you in ways that would make today seem like a kindness."
With deliberate slowness, I straighten up, releasing her chin but keeping her held in place by the mark's power. I turn slightly toensure Lucien can see my face clearly, then smile directly at him, a challenge, and an invitation to interfere if he dares.
Then, with a casual command of my will, I release Rose from my compulsion, allowing her to stand. The abruptness of it nearly makes her tumble, but she catches herself, dignity somehow intact despite everything.
"Remember this moment, Rose," I say quietly. "Remember how easily I can control you, how quickly your defiance crumbles. The men you surround yourself with cannot protect you from me. Your choices will be your end.”
She says nothing, her chest heaving. Without another word, she turns and walks away, head high despite the whispers and stares that follow her.
I remain where I am, watching her go, aware that Lucien still stands at the entrance to the building, watching me watching her. When I finally turn to meet his gaze again, the hatred in his eyes is palpable.
I merely smirk in response, a silent message passing between us. She's mine. No matter what he does, no matter how much of her blood you drink or how many times she shares your bed, she will always be mine.
The vampire's hands clench into fists at his sides, but he makes no move toward me.
I turn away, satisfaction coursing through me as I head back toward the administrative wing. Let Rose run to her lovers for comfort. Let them soothe her wounded pride and kiss away her humiliation. In the end, it changes nothing.
The blood mark ensures that Rose Smith belongs to me. And soon, very soon, she'll learn to embrace it.
Twenty-Seven
Rose
I slam my dorm room door so hard it almost comes off its hinges. The burning humiliation of kneeling in the snow before Ash, forced down by my own treacherous body, replays in my mind like a horror movie. And of all the people to be there to see it—Thorne and Harry. I want to throw up. I want to tear off the arm bearing the mark and burn it. I want to scream until my throat bleeds.
"Drake?" My voice cracks as I call out to the empty room. "Drake, are you here?"
Silence answers me. I’m not upset, not anymore. I know he can't spend every second watching over me, and maybe that's for the best. I wouldn't want him to have seen what just happened, anyway.
I sink to the floor, back against the door as tears burn hot behind my eyelids, but I refuse to let them fall. Crying won't help anything. Crying won't break the contract or kill Ash, or get me out of this hellhole.
"Fuck!" I slam my fist into the floor, and the resulting pain gives me something to think about besides the memory of Ash's smug face, his voice commanding me to kneel, my body doing as he said, even as my mind tried everything it could to stop him.
Powerless. I felt powerless.
Pretty fucking ironic for someone who supposedly has power enough that all the covens fight over it.
